FicWad

Chapter one



The man was dressed in a button up shirt and slacks with brown leather shoes. Beside him, on the cracked and desolated bench on the main drag of road running through London, was a black brief case. The well-to-do man had perfect posture. His hands were folded neatly into his lap, his legs were crossed smartly at the ankles, and his hair was slicked back just right with some commercial cream or another.

The man had been dead no less than forty eight hours.

Private Emrys, or Merlin to his friends and family- though they were few and far between, ran a hand through his hair and stowed away his notebook in his coat pocket. There was nothing new to this murder besides the person and the place.